


Lions and bears tearing you from my side

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cal tries, Everyone needs a break, F/M, Phil Coulson Needs a Break, Post season finale, Quiet story, Slight HuntingBird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season finale, everyone's recovery is just beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lions and bears tearing you from my side

**Author's Note:**

> Quiet fic, started after the finale, finally got around to finishing it.  
> Title from Meg Myers "The Morning After."

“We need to get him out of here.”

“What about the rest of the crystals?”

“If we don’t get him to a doctor--”

“Skye’s mother is still out there, and where’s--”

Mack’s voice, which had been dulled by the ringing in Phil’s ears, cut off. But he knew, even with the fog that was filling his head, even with the look May was giving Mack to not say it. Especially because of that.  

_Where’s Skye?_

Looking up, he remembered how much he hated seeing May look unnerved. That’s how you knew things were really bad. Letting his head loll down a bit, he _looked_.

“Oh god,” he moaned, and saw May and Mack’s heads dart in his direction. He couldn’t feel _it_ , which was probably the strangest part. Not just the hand -- _oh god_ \-- but the arm it was cut from. Or anything really, he couldn’t feel anything. Coulson wondered if it was the shock, or if they had some seriously good drugs in the first aid kit.

“He needs a doctor,” May said sternly, and Mack nodded, staring at where Coulson's hand had been, was supposed to be. He thought it was curious, how Mack looked both guilty and not. Phil supposed the guilt depended on whether or not he made it out of this thing alive, if it was worth it.

He couldn’t feel it. But he could hear it. The _crunching_ sound. Beneath the ringing, beneath the voices of the people around him, and the wind blowing on the deck, he could hear _it_ , playing on repeat.

“I’ll stay and look for Skye, you take him--”

“Wait.”

Things were getting fuzzier, and Coulson found he had a more difficult time lifting his head. But he managed, following May’s line of sight. It was a man, holding something--someone--in his arms.

All the sounds began to fade away (except the _crunch_ , that stayed. He wondered if it would ever go away...) as he took in details. His eyes felt so heavy, but he had to look. It was shocking, really, how much he could see. _When did he get that close?_

He saw the redness of Cal’s eyes.

He saw the tears on his cheeks.

He saw Skye’s arm hanging limply.

Before Coulson could even begin to contemplate what that meant, the world faded to gray.

***

Phil wasn’t looking so great. Approaching the on ramp of the SHIELD jet, Cal looked the other man over. Phil looked _rough_ , rougher than that time he had beaten the tar out of him. There was blood everywhere. The man watched Cal approach, blearily, white as a sheet. Cal looked at the source of the blood. Amputation, it looked like, nasty stuff.

“You should really tie that off,” he told the woman, the one eyeing him with (well-earned, he supposed) suspicion. But she looked afraid, somewhere, deep under there. She wasn’t looking at him, then. She was looking at Daisy. “Oh, right,” Cal said, shifting his daughter’s weight in his arms. “She’s just tuckered out, from, ah, her mother. Sucking the life out of her. She should be fine though.” She had to be. She _would_ be. He did his job, kept her safe. Ish. Cal looked over at the other agent, strong arms on that guy, holy cow. “Would you--” he jostled Daisy slightly as he shrugged his shoulders, and the man took the hint. Gently -- _gently_ \-- taking her from his arms and settling her in a nearby seat.

Rubbing his hands together, Cal moved over to Phil, seeing that he had passed out. No wonder, really. “So, have you given him any--”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The woman was angry now. The man, strapping Daisy into the flight seat, smart guy, looked over warily.

“Relax,” Cal said, holding up his hands. “I’m a doctor.”

***

He heard it again. The noise. But then there were others too.

He tried to speak. He thought he managed at least a croak, but wondered if it wasn’t in his head.

He could feel something now, a throbbing in his arm. Shooting down his shoulder, to his elbow, to his--

“Easy there, Phil.”

 _That voice._ Sitting at his left. Working on his--

“Easy.”

If he was trying to be soothing...well, maybe it was working a bit. Pieces began to float back, images slowly coming into focus. Just like the constant sound of the axe biting through his bone, one image wouldn’t leave him. Skye’s hair hanging down, catching the setting sun and glowing in the light.

“Nnn--Skye,” he finally got out, trying to move his head, open his eyes.

“Shh, settle down,” the voice told him. It was eerie. Before, the calmness of Cal’s voice would be a warning, now it was like a beacon, bringing him back to reality.

_So that’s where she gets it._

He could joke now. That had to be a good sign, right? He tried saying Skye’s name again, wanting to know, _needing_ to know.

“Shhh, Phil, listen to me,” Coulson lifted his head as best as he could, but his eyes wouldn’t open, eyelids feeling as if they weighed a hundred pounds. “She’s sleeping, she needs to sleep, or she won’t get better. Do you want to wake her up?”

_She’s asleep._

Phil let his head drop again, attempting to shake it. He shouldn’t wake her.

“Good, you want her to get better, right?”

“Mmm,” Coulson managed to get out. Nodding was a lost cause, and he began to feel unconsciousness coming on again.

“Atta boy.”

***

When he came to this time, he felt a bit more lucid. Not quite ready to open his eyes, he focused on listening. That was something he did now, whenever he started to regain consciousness he searched for a sound, any sound he could focus on instead of _it_. Now, it was the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

The distant hum of electricity.

His own breathing.

And--

Yes, it was there. The deep, even breathing of someone else.

While he willed himself not to feel anything on his left (or maybe that was the morphine,) Coulson could feel a warmth to his right. Hair under his chin. A soft weight on his chest.

He fell back to sleep, comfortably. There was no noise this time.

***

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Phil woke up. He opened his eyes. Slowly the room came into focus. He was in the Playground. Hearing a shuffling in the corner, he saw Cal sitting across the room, one leg crossed over the other, foot jiggling impatiently. Before Coulson could say anything, Cal sighed and shook his head.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that, Phil,” he said, rising from his chair. Coulson looked to the door. There was no one else in the lab. Noticing his concern, Cal’s eyes widened. “Oh, _no_ , no need to worry about me. Just ah, checking up on you, keeping watch.” Cal ran a hand through his hair, which stayed disheveled. “Daisy isn’t going to be happy with me,” he muttered, looking over at Coulson.

“ _You_ didn’t chop off my hand,” Phil mumbled, and Cal laughed in that unsettling way of his. Not threatening this time, but not quite right. _Seriously who left me alone with him?_ He wasn't afraid of Cal, but the man's bedside manner left something to be desired. 

“No, no I did not.” He sat in another chair, this one closer to the bed. “But I did convince my daughter to go wash up, take a break. This is the longest she's been away since you got here." Taking in the look on Coulson's face, Cal answered his unspoken question. "Couple days. And man, getting her to leave was a bear. She finds out she wasn’t here when you woke up?” He let out a low whistle.

“Sorry about that,” Coulson said lamely. _So it was Skye here last night._  He looked down at his...arm. “Shit,” he muttered. He had a lot to process, and still too much fuzziness to get to it.

“Yeah,” Cal sighed, placing a hand on his bed rail. “Really though, it wasn’t me. It was that tall, handsome guy with the--” he mimed something Coulson suspected was supposed to be large biceps.

“Yeah, I got that part. I guess the alternative was, you know, turning to stone, so.”

He was happy to be alive, really.

He just couldn’t stop staring at the bandages, and where they ended, neatly and rounded off where there should still be flesh and bone. Looking up, he saw Cal staring around the room awkwardly.

“How’s Skye?”

The man clearly paused, probably in an effort not to correct her name. _I tried it the other way to make you happy and that didn’t work either._ Phil wasn’t sure what he wanted from him.

“She’s fine. My wife, she tried--she got desperate.”

Coulson swallowed heavily, and sat up straighter. “What do you-- she used her powers on Skye?” The thought chilled him, not only what the woman could do, but the fact she did it to her own daughter? Cal said she didn’t come back right (How could she? Neither of them did,) but that was…

“She did, Daisy fought her off a bit, but I-- I didn’t want that on her conscience. She’s a good girl.” Cal wrung his hands, and Coulson couldn’t begin to imagine what the man had been through. “So I, ah--” He stopped, looking at Phil, still and serious in a way he hadn’t seen before. A resigned look crossed his face. “A man will do crazy things for the woman he loves,” he mused, shaking his head a bit. “But that pales in comparison to what he’ll do for his child.” He stood now, taking a look at Coulson’s vitals on the monitor, jumpy and agitated once more. He seemed uncomfortably exposed.

“You’re a good father,” Phil said, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. Cal laughed.

“That’ll be the morphine talking,” he said, and Coulson tilted his head, conceding the point. Cal walked about the room. “Yeah, dad of the year, snapping my wife’s spine for leeching the life from our daughter,” he muttered, and Coulson felt alarm creep up again. Cal seemed to notice. “She’s fine, don’t worry. Maybe just...shaved a couple years off.”

Phil felt something like a stone drop in his chest.

Cal shrugged. “I hated my late 20s anyway.” He let out a sad little laugh, moving over to look at Coulson’s monitors again. Phil felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

“Wha- what did you--”

“Just giving you a little power nap, Phil,” Cal’s voice said, sounding far away. “Get some sleep, and just pretend we never had this talk, and Skye will be here when you wake up.”

He barely registered Cal’s use of her name before drifting off.

***

It was dark again when he woke up. _Yeah, power nap my ass_. Reaching up with his ( _right_. Not that he needed to specify anymore) hand, Coulson rubbed his face. There was a dull ache now, probably aided by every painkiller available, but more than anything he wanted a shower. _And a scotch._

Movement in the corner of his eye caused him to look at the entrance to the room.

“Skye.”

She was wearing her sweats, hair piled up on top of her head messily. The pillow she’d been holding in her hands dropped to the floor.

“Coulson,” she whispered, before practically running the short distance to his side. “You’re awake.” Gripping the rail of his bed, her widened eyes darted from his face to his arm and back. Phil watched her, fully feeling the relief that she was here and alive. More so than when he woke up with her lying next to him. He attempted a smile, but its effect was the opposite of what he intended. “Oh, Coulson,” she said quietly, a shaky hand moving to cover her mouth. He reached over to her hand that was still white knuckled on the rail and covered it with his own.

“We’re okay,” he told her, “we’re fine.”

Taking a calming breath, Skye tried to smile. But there was a haunted look in her eyes that Coulson couldn’t bear looking at. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed, if Cal hadn’t told him (of course he would have,) but she looked...different. Her cheeks somehow seemed thinner, her face slightly longer, even though it had only been days since he’d last seen her. Her eyes had bags, which were to be expected, but there was a hollowness there.

He wanted to do what they always did, hug, make it all seem better even for just a few moments.

But he couldn’t. Not yet. He wondered how many painful reminders he would have like this, moments that wouldn’t let him forget what had happened to him. Things he loved that would never be the same again.

“What time is it?” At the question Skye looked confused, so he gestured around the room. “No clocks,” he answered, “and my watch is--well…” The joke did not land, judging by the way Skye’s watery eyes looked up at the ceiling. “Hey, sorry, sorry, I know,” he sighed, feeling like a jackass. “Humor, it’s--”

“A coping mechanism, got it.” She rolled her eyes. He smiled. “It’s about 11, I just left to--” she looked back toward the doorway, her dropped pillow. Sheepish, she looked back at him.

“Your father told me,” he said, not wanting her to feel embarrassed. “He said you’d been staying with me. That means a lot.” _Understatement of the century._ He smirked. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, he didn’t want you to be upset that I woke up when you were gone.” Skye ran a hand through her bangs, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, he told me.” Coulson raised his eyebrows. “He’s sort of a terrible liar,” she admitted.

“He is,” Phil agreed. “Kind of refreshing, isn’t it?”

Skye laughed a bit and nodded. “Yeah.” Coulson felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest at the sound. Looking down he saw her hands fidgeting, her fingers curling themselves into her sleeves. “Hey, do you think I could…?”

“Yeah, of course,” he told her, knowing somehow exactly what she meant. Doing his best to scoot over to his left, he watched her smile shyly, then go grab her pillow from the doorway. Coulson smiled only a little awkwardly, after all this was the first time he was awake for this. ‘ _This’ being Skye climbing into my bed._

He pushed that thought away.

There was kind of a lot going on lately, that was the last thing they needed.

Also trying to push away how _easy_ it looked for her, he scooted a little more.

It became very awkward at that point, both of them sitting up in the small bed, sides touching. Skye’s hands fiddled with her sleeves again.

“Ah, how did you usually…?” Coulson offered, knowing that neither of them would be getting any sleep like this. Skye looked up at him, uncharacteristically nervous.

“Is it okay if I…?” She gestured towards him and all he could do was nod.

_When did I become a 15-year-old?_

Relaxing a bit, Skye shifted to her side, lying down more and wrapping one arm around Coulson’s torso. Watching him carefully, like he was a spooked deer, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Is this okay?” He nodded again, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders.

 _This is what I was missing?_ The thought was juvenile, but like he had said. Humor was a bit necessary for him in the moment. Absentmindedly he began stroking his fingers across Skye’s arm, closing his eyes. He felt her move in closer to him, before he realized she was shivering.

The room wasn’t cold.

“Skye?”

He heard her breath hitch and he opened his eyes, but didn’t look down. She didn’t say a word, and he wondered if he should say something, when her quiet voice broke the silence.

“I feel like something was taken from me.”

Phil shivered a bit himself, pulling her closer.

Did she know?

_‘Just shaved a couple years off.’_

“Me too,” he murmured, moving his left arm slightly, just enough to catch her attention. Skye stilled.

Then she snorted.

The rest of her laughter was quiet, he could only tell by the shaking of her shoulders, but he found himself joining in.

“We’re so messed up,” she muttered, and Coulson nodded, his chin mussing up the side of her hair.

***

A quiet voice woke them both, and Coulson finally realized there was someone on the other side of that curtain. _How long..?_

Lying awake, he listened, feeling Skye shift next to him. He was warm, in a way that was just right, not stifling or claustrophobic. In fact, it was no wonder he slept so long those first couple days, if Skye was lying there like the most comforting heated blanket every night. If he closed his eyes again he had no doubt he’d fall right back asleep.

Skye shifted in his arms again, pulling away just enough that he could see her face. Her cheek rested on the other side of his pillow and she opened her eyes.

They watched each other sleepily for a few beats, before he heard the voice again. From Skye’s reaction, she heard it too.

 _Hunter_.

He remembered Bobbi. The horror show of seeing what had happened to a brilliant agent, and the sick feeling of deja vu as he watched Hunter watch Bobbi.

He wondered if he should stop listening, somehow. It was just whispers, maybe nothing, but sounded personal.

Hunter’s was the only voice. Looking back to Skye, Coulson was startled by the look he saw on her face. Any tiredness was gone, she looked alert and thoughtful, examining his face. Slowly she leaned over and Phil sucked in a breath. She hesitated just a second more before gently pressing her lips to his.

Coulson didn’t move, he didn’t even close his eyes, and when Skye pulled back after a few beats, he just stared.

That was...not something he had foreseen, and part of him wondered if he might still be under the influence a bit. Realizing that Skye wasn’t going to blush and run away, or apologize (not that she would ever need to, not for that,) Coulson looked at her curiously. Was it because of his hand, or her parents? The fact that they almost found themselves on opposing sides, that she was at risk for losing both of the only groups she ever felt she belonged to?

Or maybe it was because of the quiet, sad, but hopeful whispers coming from the other side of the curtain.

Coulson wondered if she had talked to him while he was out, asking him to ‘Come back.’

 _She couldn’t have_ , he reasoned with himself. Because if she had, he would have heard her, and he would have woken up. There was no question. That was just the way things worked.

Watching her carefully, it was him who leaned in this time, not closing his eyes until he saw her eyelids flicker and shut. This was more than a quick touching of their lips, with a surprising intensity Coulson felt Skye’s mouth open under his, her hands moving up to cup his face. The smooth skin of her palms made him realize it must have been days since he’d shaved, but it didn’t seem to bother Skye.

It was completely weird and also not, kissing Skye. It both felt like something that would never happen in a million years, and an inevitability. He knew he loved her, hell, anyone with eyes knew, which was just one reason why the past few weeks were so hellish.

 _But I’m not sure this was what they were thinking_ , he thought wryly, feeling Skye slip her tongue into his mouth.

A swish of the curtain snapped both of them out of it, and they looked up to see a very tired Agent Hunter standing there.

Phil hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped talking to Bobbi.

“Do you two mind? I’m sort of--” he gestured back to Bobbi’s side, “having a moment, and suddenly I hear...all of this.” He nodded toward the two of them.

“I…” Skye looked up at Phil, then over at Hunter. “Sorry,” she said, removing her hand from Coulson’s cheek, but not making any other moves to pull away.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Hunter sighed, rubbing his face. “This is the part where you tell me to mind my business, or throw something in my general direction. Not stare at me all gloomy because…” He trailed off, and Skye looked down, nodding a bit.

Coulson could understand how Hunter felt in a few ways. Concern and misery over seeing someone you loved in such pain, but not wanting pity, because pity was only a reminder of how terrible--

“Get the hell out?” Skye’s cautious voice pulled Coulson from his train of thought, and he looked from her to Hunter, who blinked curiously for a few seconds before a slow smile formed on his face.

“Alright, rude,” he muttered, backing away from the curtain separating the lab inhabitants. “But really,” he said stopping the curtain from shutting fully behind him. “Try to rein it in a bit, would you? I’m saying some real, heartfelt things over here, beautiful things, and if her first question is about whatever is going on between you two and not--”

“Got it, Hunter,” Coulson interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, we’re going to have issues,” Hunter said, shrugging.

“Understood,” he replied, looking at him pointedly. The other agent nodded.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” he said, before disappearing behind the curtain again. Skye and Coulson remained still, listening as Hunter returned to his seat, presumably at Bobbi’s bedside.

“Sorry about that,” they heard him whisper, still quiet but noticeably louder than his words to her before. “Incredibly distracting,” he muttered, before returning to an inaudible, hushed whisper. Skye was staring at the closed curtain. Phil could see her smiling at Hunter’s antics but her eyes looked distinctly saddened by the situation. His hand stroked her back, and she looked up at him curiously.

“We should probably talk at some point,” she said quietly, tilting her head. “About...that.” Coulson nodded. He didn’t know if it was a fluke, or a result of what had happened over the past few weeks, but something told him the best plan was to wait a bit. Rushing into anything at this point, let alone something as important as this, would be risky. He needed time to recover from his physical wounds (he suspected that, no matter how nice he felt now, it was going to be a long road to recovery ahead) and Skye needed time to recover from her traumas.

_And that doesn’t even cover what we decide to do with Cal._

No, as much as he would like to explore what happens next with him and Skye--and he really would, he thinks, as absurdly domestic and romantic scenarios begin to fill his mind--they need to wait for things to settle down first.

“We will,” he replied confidently, and Skye smiled, tucking her head back into his shoulder. Moving his hand up to comb through her hair, Coulson closed his eyes. They would take things slow. They would talk, they would heal, and they would rebuild SHIELD better than before. But first they would get some much needed rest.

 

 


End file.
